The night air was calm, other than the explosions of mortar shells and the rattling of machine guns in the distance. Roderick hadn't expected France to be so cool in the early autumn months. One of the soldiers in his division, a superstitious man named Kyle Sloan, liked to say that war brings a chill of it's own. At this point Roderick didn't know whether to believe him or not. There was certainly a foul air within the trenches as the night went on, and Roderick didn't like thinking about it.
The fighting had reached a stalemate hours ago and it seemed the Germans had retreated back into their own side of the field before the last light of day broke. Still their machine guns fired at practically nothing as Roderick had given the orders to keep their heads down until command had called back. Pacing up and down the trenches, he would let his gun hang from his shoulder, lifting his cap off of his head and brushing his grimy hand through a sweat slicked mat of brown locks. He still was certain he was to young for a position of command like this. Reaching the southern front of the field, the soldiers there saluted him. They were young, fierce, and yet the fear in their eyes looked very real. Fear of what they had seen out on the field earlier, or fear of their lives down here, he was unsure. There was a quiet creeping sense of dread that came whenever a stalemate was reached. The waiting. Would their mortars hit our trenches first, or would ours hit there's? That was the consistent thought, on both the troops' and Roderick's minds.
A shrill cry of horror rose up from the field off in the distance, and Roderick's blood went cold, before muttering a few swears under his breath. "Get me a god damned ladder, so I can see which fool abandoned post!" Quickly, the implement was brought out for their commander, who climbed the side of the trench and looked out over the emprt war torn field.
All he saw was a cloud of thick darkness hanging like a veil, no further than a kilometer from the trenches. The darkness seeped like water, slowly inching closer towards the trenches where his men stood ready. Several emotions passed through Roderick, but the one that took hold was his indignation, fueling him to action. Climbing down from the ladder he quickly shouted up the channel "MAKE FOR COMMAND POST BETA! GO!!!"
Before anyone could move, something suddenly yanked one of the privates, Johanneson, out of the trench and into the black darkness. "GO!!!" Roderick shouted louder, shaking the other soldiers into action once more. They flooded past him and he followed quickly behind them, taking up the rear. As the group ran through the rounding trenches, Roderick caught sight of the darkness seeping over the edge of the trench, a viscera appendage flinging itself out of the dark veil and grabbing his soldiers one by one and dragging them back into it's heart. The screams of the dying were horrific.
Reaching the fortification of Command Post Beta, Roderick slammed the door behind him holding back whatever supernatural event was going on out there. The southern division was reduced to two soldiers, Corporal Smith and Private Edmunds. The Corporal, catching his breath shouted "What the hell was that?!" which Roderick shook his head, before taking a look at their situation. The room smelled pungently of something, and it quickly became apparent what that something was.
The command post was filled with the dead, one of them, the sergeant overseeing the eastern trenches, was strung up by his arms, his abdomen cut open from collar to cock, his entrails hanging from his body. Edmunds puked at the sight and Smith turned his back on the viscera. The sounds of other soldiers meeting whatever brutal end the cloud had for them could be heard through the wooden and dirt fortification, hands clawing on the doors attempting to break through before being dragged into the night.
"What do we do?" Edmunds almost sobbed, as his stomach finally quit retching. "Without a radio, we can't alert command." Roderick would grimace before shaking his head.
"We will hold out here until daybreak. Surely it won't-"
His words were cut off as the door behind him cracked under the force of some brutal attack. All three naturally drew away from the door, Roderick raising his gun and pointing it at the door. Another crack, and the door visibly bent inward, splintering into the command post.
Roderick unloaded, pulling the trigger of his machine gun and spraying the door full of bullets until his weapon ran empty.
Silence followed...
And then Edmunds screamed. Roderick turned to watch as the Private get dragged out the opposite door by some ugly tendril wrapped around his leg, yanking his body over the edge of the trench. Smith was no where to be seen, leaving Roderick alone in this nightmare. Running to the door, he yanked it closed once more and barred it, making sure it would not be able to open again without being broken down. Just as he finished, the door on the opposite side of the room broke into a hundred pieces, and Roderick turned, pointing his empty machine gun into the space between him and his doom.
The inky blackness rolled slowly into the room, but paused just a few feet through the door, as if regarding Roderick. Suddenly it began to recede, pulling back to reveal a person standing before him. A man. This man wore no shirt or hat, only pants that looked similar to Roderick's, and combat boots that the pants were tucked into. His abdomen was pale and chiseled like a piece of stone, muscular beyond capabilities. His hair was stranger, a crimson color with black tips, a gaudy and strange color scheme.
The man strode forward, and that was when Roderick noticed a thin black appendage swishing behind the man. Noticed the orange eyes with slitted irises like a cat's. Before he could even beg for his life, the man had advanced on him and had a hand around his throat tightly. Choking hard, he was able to get one word out "A-Astartos?"
The man smirked, tilting his head to the side before responding in a smooth deep tone. "I don't like being slighted, Roderick. When a deal is struck, the terms of the agreement must be paid. Since you would not pay it yourself, I was given no choice but to take what I required."
"You sided with the Nazis?!"
"Oh Roderick..." Throwing the man down, he would shake his head, walking around the room as if to get a good sense of the space "This goes much deeper than that, and you should know I care little for your little squabbles."
Taking several deep breaths, the commander looked up at this strange man and stammered out in utter horror "Wh-what will you do with me?"
"It's always about the singular isn't it? Never mind your entire platoon was decimated by my little parlor trick, you're the only one that matters." The man sneered when he turned back to Roderick. Roderick fumbled back further towards the door.
The man, Astartos, approached Roderick and knelt down, straightening his uniform and speaking softly "I'm going to leave you a shell of who you once were, Roderick. So that you will live on with the horrors of what happened here tonight. Know that our deal has been paid in full now, and you will go on paying it's toll in the waking hours of every night for the rest of your short miserable span."
Then the man stood, and retreated back to the darkness, the inky blackness enveloping him as it drew outward and away from the trench, leaving Roderick alone with the stench of decay filling his lungs.
The fighting had reached a stalemate hours ago and it seemed the Germans had retreated back into their own side of the field before the last light of day broke. Still their machine guns fired at practically nothing as Roderick had given the orders to keep their heads down until command had called back. Pacing up and down the trenches, he would let his gun hang from his shoulder, lifting his cap off of his head and brushing his grimy hand through a sweat slicked mat of brown locks. He still was certain he was to young for a position of command like this. Reaching the southern front of the field, the soldiers there saluted him. They were young, fierce, and yet the fear in their eyes looked very real. Fear of what they had seen out on the field earlier, or fear of their lives down here, he was unsure. There was a quiet creeping sense of dread that came whenever a stalemate was reached. The waiting. Would their mortars hit our trenches first, or would ours hit there's? That was the consistent thought, on both the troops' and Roderick's minds.
A shrill cry of horror rose up from the field off in the distance, and Roderick's blood went cold, before muttering a few swears under his breath. "Get me a god damned ladder, so I can see which fool abandoned post!" Quickly, the implement was brought out for their commander, who climbed the side of the trench and looked out over the emprt war torn field.
All he saw was a cloud of thick darkness hanging like a veil, no further than a kilometer from the trenches. The darkness seeped like water, slowly inching closer towards the trenches where his men stood ready. Several emotions passed through Roderick, but the one that took hold was his indignation, fueling him to action. Climbing down from the ladder he quickly shouted up the channel "MAKE FOR COMMAND POST BETA! GO!!!"
Before anyone could move, something suddenly yanked one of the privates, Johanneson, out of the trench and into the black darkness. "GO!!!" Roderick shouted louder, shaking the other soldiers into action once more. They flooded past him and he followed quickly behind them, taking up the rear. As the group ran through the rounding trenches, Roderick caught sight of the darkness seeping over the edge of the trench, a viscera appendage flinging itself out of the dark veil and grabbing his soldiers one by one and dragging them back into it's heart. The screams of the dying were horrific.
Reaching the fortification of Command Post Beta, Roderick slammed the door behind him holding back whatever supernatural event was going on out there. The southern division was reduced to two soldiers, Corporal Smith and Private Edmunds. The Corporal, catching his breath shouted "What the hell was that?!" which Roderick shook his head, before taking a look at their situation. The room smelled pungently of something, and it quickly became apparent what that something was.
The command post was filled with the dead, one of them, the sergeant overseeing the eastern trenches, was strung up by his arms, his abdomen cut open from collar to cock, his entrails hanging from his body. Edmunds puked at the sight and Smith turned his back on the viscera. The sounds of other soldiers meeting whatever brutal end the cloud had for them could be heard through the wooden and dirt fortification, hands clawing on the doors attempting to break through before being dragged into the night.
"What do we do?" Edmunds almost sobbed, as his stomach finally quit retching. "Without a radio, we can't alert command." Roderick would grimace before shaking his head.
"We will hold out here until daybreak. Surely it won't-"
His words were cut off as the door behind him cracked under the force of some brutal attack. All three naturally drew away from the door, Roderick raising his gun and pointing it at the door. Another crack, and the door visibly bent inward, splintering into the command post.
Roderick unloaded, pulling the trigger of his machine gun and spraying the door full of bullets until his weapon ran empty.
Silence followed...
And then Edmunds screamed. Roderick turned to watch as the Private get dragged out the opposite door by some ugly tendril wrapped around his leg, yanking his body over the edge of the trench. Smith was no where to be seen, leaving Roderick alone in this nightmare. Running to the door, he yanked it closed once more and barred it, making sure it would not be able to open again without being broken down. Just as he finished, the door on the opposite side of the room broke into a hundred pieces, and Roderick turned, pointing his empty machine gun into the space between him and his doom.
The inky blackness rolled slowly into the room, but paused just a few feet through the door, as if regarding Roderick. Suddenly it began to recede, pulling back to reveal a person standing before him. A man. This man wore no shirt or hat, only pants that looked similar to Roderick's, and combat boots that the pants were tucked into. His abdomen was pale and chiseled like a piece of stone, muscular beyond capabilities. His hair was stranger, a crimson color with black tips, a gaudy and strange color scheme.
The man strode forward, and that was when Roderick noticed a thin black appendage swishing behind the man. Noticed the orange eyes with slitted irises like a cat's. Before he could even beg for his life, the man had advanced on him and had a hand around his throat tightly. Choking hard, he was able to get one word out "A-Astartos?"
The man smirked, tilting his head to the side before responding in a smooth deep tone. "I don't like being slighted, Roderick. When a deal is struck, the terms of the agreement must be paid. Since you would not pay it yourself, I was given no choice but to take what I required."
"You sided with the Nazis?!"
"Oh Roderick..." Throwing the man down, he would shake his head, walking around the room as if to get a good sense of the space "This goes much deeper than that, and you should know I care little for your little squabbles."
Taking several deep breaths, the commander looked up at this strange man and stammered out in utter horror "Wh-what will you do with me?"
"It's always about the singular isn't it? Never mind your entire platoon was decimated by my little parlor trick, you're the only one that matters." The man sneered when he turned back to Roderick. Roderick fumbled back further towards the door.
The man, Astartos, approached Roderick and knelt down, straightening his uniform and speaking softly "I'm going to leave you a shell of who you once were, Roderick. So that you will live on with the horrors of what happened here tonight. Know that our deal has been paid in full now, and you will go on paying it's toll in the waking hours of every night for the rest of your short miserable span."
Then the man stood, and retreated back to the darkness, the inky blackness enveloping him as it drew outward and away from the trench, leaving Roderick alone with the stench of decay filling his lungs.